Chuck vs the Oscars
by atlee
Summary: On his latest mission, Chuck finds himself at the Oscars, and learns more than he wants to about his favorite stars.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I have not created Chuck or any of the central characters in this story.

Chapter 1

"We're going where?" Chuck asked, incredulously. He couldn't tell whether the air of frustration wafting through the air was coming from General Diane Beckman via the screen, Casey standing behind him, or his own confusion.

"Mr. Bartowski," Beckman sighed, "you and Agent Walker will be headed to the Kodak Theatre in downtown Los Angeles tomorrow night for surveillance." After a pause, "to the Oscars." She uttered the last word in the same way Chuck would say "dentist" or "DMV."

"Ok, that's pretty much what I thought you said." Chuck looked up at his handlers. Both Sarah Walker and John Casey were looking at the screen impassively.

"As I was explaining earlier," Beckman continued, "we have received intel that the terrorist organization Black Armada is planning to release a dirty bomb at the theatre during the ceremony tomorrow night. The high profile nature of the event will guarantee the maximum amount of exposure for their organization, as well as heavy casualties among many high profile personalities."

Chuck heard Casey grunt behind him. He wasn't sure, but it sounded more like Casey's amused grunt rather than the irritated grunt Chuck was used to. The subtleties of John Casey's guttural reactions were something Chuck was only beginning to get used to.

"Agent Walker, you and the Intersect will attend the ceremony, and rendezvous with our agent on the inside. He will give you any last minute information regarding the situation. After that, the Intersect will monitor the area and let you know of any flashes on any of the attendees. Once any enemy agents have been identified, you will apprehend them, Agent Walker."

"Major, I'm a bit concerned," Sarah spoke up. As usual, Chuck found himself staring at her just a little longer than he probably should have. Sarah was currently dressed in her Orange Orange uniform, which didn't help. "The Oscars are a very high profile televised event. Ch.., the Intersect, and I could easily be recognized by anybody watching on television."

Chuck imagined Morgan watching the show on TV, and suddenly seeing him between speeches. Yeah, that would probably lead to a few questions the next morning, he imagined. Not to mention his sister. Explaining why he would be skipping out on Ellie's annual Oscar Party would be tricky enough.

After a pause, Beckman said, "We have already considered this issue, and have arranged for an appropriate cover. The intersect will be attending as a screenwriter, and you will be his date. That way, you will be seated far enough away to avoid any television cameras." Chuck doubted that any cameraman would turn away from Sarah, no matter where she was seated. He chose not to raise this concern.

"And what will my role be?" Casey asked Beckman.

"You will be doing surveillance outside."

"But…"

"No Agent Casey, your biases are well known regarding this community."

"The Hollywood Pinko Commie Liberals, you mean? I can keep my opinions to myself."

"I'm not comfortable with your word on this. Need I remind you of the People's Choice Awards debacle of 2005?" Casey looked down at his feet.

"I don't need to emphasize the importance of this mission. If Black Armada achieves its goals it will be a disaster to this country, and to this agency." The screen went black, and Chuck looked up at his two handlers.

"So, I guess we're going to hang out with the beautiful people, huh?"

* * *

"So, are you all ready for this year's big Oscar Bash? I just know 'Talbot Springs' is going to win!"

Chuck smiled weakly at Morgan while he finished the morning's Nerd Herd paperwork. He knew his best friend was excited about Ellie's Oscar Bash, as he was every year. "Actually, I think I'm going to have to miss it this year."

"Miss it? Are you crazy? Miss Ellie's chocolate chip statuette cookies? Miss defending your title in the Oscar pool? Miss the Oscar drinking game?"

"I'm afraid so, buddy," Chuck tried to calm Morgan, who was practically jumping up and down. "You know, I want to go out with Sarah tomorrow, and she really isn't all that into movies."

"Not. Into. Movies." Morgan looked lightheaded. "You know, I realize Sarah is like a supermodel's hotter sister, but not into movies? I think I may actually feel bad for you."

"Hey, not everybody likes movies, you know."

"You know who doesn't like movies, Chuck? Bad people, people who don't want to meet alone in a dark alley. People like that guy." Morgan gestured toward Casey, who was stocking DVDs. Chuck shrugged. Morgan might not be too far off there. "You know I saw him put 'The Bourne Identity' in the comedy section the other day? Not action, not mystery, heck not even classics like I keep suggesting to Big Mike, but comedy! That's twisted. That's what a person who's 'not into movies' does. Be careful, Chuck."

"You're overreacting. We just want to be by ourselves for a night. That's all. You can take Anna to the party. Ellie won't mind. She'll still have the cookies, and maybe you'll win the pool. You can even play the drinking game, but I have to warn you that Awesome may make you chug Powerade instead of beer every time Nicholson comes on screen."

"Alright, so you're really going through with this." Morgan shook his head. "But that pool is going to be mine this year. 'Talbot Springs,' all the way!" Chuck watched Morgan head back to the employee lounge for a mid mid-morning break.

"He'll get over it," Chuck thought to himself. He just hoped that Morgan would be watching the usual uneventful show, rather than a surprisingly action-packed one.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, or any of the characters on the show.

Chapter 2

The next morning, it took quite a bit of effort for Chuck to convince Ellie that he would be skipping the Oscar party this year. Finally, after emphasizing this would make Sarah, and therefore him, happy, she finally relented. So, one hug, two freshly baked chocolate chip Oscar cookies, and a "Have an awesome time!" later, Chuck was on his way.

Like most missions, choosing the appropriate clothing was a necessity. Unfortunately, this aspect of the current mission was especially complicated. In order to be able to leave the house that afternoon, Chuck had to change out of his grubby jeans and t-shirt and into something "Ellie acceptable" for a date. However, the dress shirt and slacks wouldn't quite work out for his ultimate destination, so Chuck had to change into a tuxedo. Because this would lead to yet more questions from Ellie and Awesome, he had to do this in the back of the Nerd Herder. This was no small feat.

He finally arrived at the rendezvous point, the parking lot at an abandoned office building. The lot was almost entirely abandoned, with the exception being a black, stretch limousine. Chuck hopped out of his car, and the limo's front door opened. John Casey emerged, dressed in a black suit and driver's cap. Despite his better judgment, Chuck smiled and said, "Nice hat." The grunt he heard in response was definitely the annoyed grunt, and not the amused grunt.

Casey walked past Chuck, and opened the limousine's back door. "Hurry up and get in, Bartowski."

Chuck took one look at Casey's face and quickly complied. However, as he leaned into the limo he almost fell backwards onto the pavement. Sarah was seated inside waiting for him. The long blue gown she was wearing set off her turquoise eyes. She had clearly spent most of the afternoon at the hairdresser and manicurist as well. After a moment, Chuck came to his senses. "I thought the idea was for us _not_ to be noticed."

Sarah smiled warmly. "Thank you, Chuck. You look pretty good yourself. Well, other than this bow tie." She took it off, and began re-tying it around his neck.

"Hey, changing in a Nerd Herder is like changing in a phone booth. I don't know how Superman does it." Sarah smiled again.

"Well we can't very well roll into the theatre in jumpsuits, now can we? We have to fit in. Do as the Romans do."

"Alright. It's time to get you two to your bacchanal," Casey muttered from outside as he shut the door and headed to the front of the limo.

* * *

"If you've landed back on Earth, Bartowski, let's go through the plan again," Chuck turned away from Sarah and saw Casey eyeing himh grouchily through the limousine's rearview mirror. Chuck was still having trouble keeping his mind on the mission. "Since I'm not going to be there to clean up your mistakes, it might help if you made fewer of them than usual."

"Relax Chuck, you'll do fine. Just remember, you just need to keep an eye out during the ceremony. Our contact will give us any last minute information that may help narrow down our search, but it could be anybody. Let me know the minute you flash, and then you just need to stay out of the way while we apprehend the enemy agent."

"Feel free to use any of those prettyboy actors as a human shield."

Chuck looked up at Casey. "So, People's Choice Awards, huh?"

"Leave it alone, Bartowski!"

"What, they're just movie stars!" Chuck ignored Sarah's warning glance

"Movie stars." Casey harrumphed. "Just a bunch of self-important idiots who spend their days posing for pictures and their nights telling the world how much they know about everything."

"Oh come on, Casey. They're not so different from everyone else. After all, we seem to do quite a bit of acting ourselves."

"And the difference is, we don't get to do it over when we mess up! Your Keanus and your Afflecks, they make a mistake, and it's off to the trailer for an hour nap and a bong hit. We mess up, and it's goodbye eastern seaboard. And now, they have a dress-up party, complimenting each other on how great they are, and the world stops to actually listen to them."

"Wow." Chuck could see why Beckman wanted Casey on the sidelines for this mission. "Aren't there any actors you do like?"

Casey drove quietly, and Chuck began to wonder if Casey was just ignoring him. Finally, as they reached a stoplight, he said, "John Wayne."

"Ok, John Wayne, I can see that. Anyone who's been alive in the last 40 years?"

"Not since Eastwood did that Madison County movie." Casey looked back through the mirror, shook his head, and pressed a button on the dashboard. The glass barrier between the front and back of the limousine rose up, leaving Chuck and Sarah in silence.

* * *

"Yeah, Casey stays in the car. I'd hate to see Dame Judi Dench with a knife in her back." Sarah looked at him funny so he explained, "You know, old classy British actress. Drinks tea a lot. Oh, and she's James Bond's boss."

"Ah," Sarah replied. "I saw one of those once. Have to say, they're not very realistic."

"Yeah, a real spy would never get dressed up in a tuxedo for a mission." Or have a gorgeous woman by his side, he thought to himself. "So you agree with Casey?"

"Well, not exactly. But we don't exactly have a lot of free time to go to the movies, you know."

Chuck shook his head. "But movies are an escape! I mean, what better thing after a mission than to curl up with a stupid comedy?"

Sarah shrugged. "Usually after a mission I just want to go to sleep."

Chuck opened the mini-fridge in the back of the limousine, and started flipping through the different bottles. "I remember when I came back from Stanford after getting kicked out and Jill dumping me. Morgan and I watched the Indiana Jones trilogy over and over. I guess I was supposed to talk about my feelings and all that, but just being able to pretend all that's wrong with your life isn't there for a couple hours, that can really make a difference. Besides, Morgan isn't exactly the world's greatest listener."

Sarah smiled briefly. "That sounds nice."

"So you've never just sat down and watched a movie just to get your mind off things?"

"When I was a kid," Sarah replied after a minute. "I had a videotape of Mary Poppins. I used to watch it after my dad dragged me on one of his cons."

"Mary Poppins?" Chuck said his best cockney accent, and Sarah chuckled. "Really! Sarah Walker is a 'Mary Poppins' fan. Does this mean I get to hear your rendition of Supercalifragilistic?"

"I don't think so, Chuck. Casey would shoot both of us if he heard us singing."

"Well, ok then," Chuck put on his best fake pout, until Sarah laughed. "But, after this mission is over, we are going to have a Chuck Bartowski movie night, ok?"

"Ok, Chuck."

"Ok then." Chuck took one of the bottles out of the refrigerator. "So, would the CIA mind if we took any of this stuff?"

"Sorry, Chuck." Sarah took the bottle from Chuck's hands and returned it to the refrigerator. "We don't need you slurring your flashes tonight. And besides, we're here."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, or any of the characters on the show. Also, representations of actual famous people, including movies they are in and any "details" suggested are all fictional.

Thank you to everyone for the kind words about the first two chapters. I'll try to work in some of the suggested cameos.

Chapter 3

Morgan dropped his picks into the glitter-covered shoebox with a satisfying plunk. "There," he said, looking around the room, "the winning ballot has now been cast."

"Feeling a bit cocky there, Morgan-meister?" Devin asked with a slight smirk.

"Are you kidding, these are movies we're talking about. My home turf! Me losing would be like Peyton Manning losing at Wrigley Field!" Devin smiled, but let Morgan continue. "This will be so easy that I could even give a protest vote to 'The Dark Knight' without worrying about wasting it!"

"Don't worry about him," Anna commented snidely, rubbing Morgan's arm, "he's just wallowing in his opportunity with Chuck not here."

"What little faith you have in me, Anna Banana," Morgan replied. "While we all keenly feel my man's absence from this little shindig, I think we can safely say Chuck would've gone down in bitter defeat. 'Talbot Springs' is taking me all the way to victory!"

"Ugh," Ellie muttered from the kitchen, where she was opening a bottle of wine. "I can't believe people liked that movie. All about a bunch of family members bickering at each other for two hours. Why must every family in movies be so quirkily dysfunctional?"

"Hey, not every family can be like la familia Bartowski, you know. I suppose you're routing for 'Summer Geraniums.'"

"Of course. It's lushly romantic, about love being denied for two people because of society's obsession with class." Ellie sighed. "Devin and I both loved it, didn't we, honey?"

Devin nodded, "It was awesome, babe!" He rubbed her shoulders from behind, looked at Morgan, and shook his head fervently.

"Oh you know Morgan," Anna commented. "If there aren't any car chases or hipsters spewing catch phrases, I never hear the end of it."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, nothing more exciting than watching some 19th Century British people sit around silently staring out the window, and pretend their feelings don't exist. I mean, who does that?"

* * *

"Chuck?"

Chuck looked up. He had been staring out the window of the limo in a desperate attempt to avoid staring at Sarah in her dress. He looked around, and realized they had stopped a couple of blocks from the Kodak Theatre. He could see a large crowd of people crowded about a little bit ahead, at the beginning of the infamous Red Carpet. "Do we have to go through that?"

"Our contact should be meeting us close by, and will lead us to a back entrance," Sarah explained. "We still have to go through some security to get in, but we can avoid most of the crowd up there."

"What a relief. As much as I'd hate to deny the paparazzi the chance to see Charles Carmichael, glamorous…screenwriter. Well, I guess it's time to go. Have fun outside, Casey!"

Casey grumbled something under his breath. The only words Chuck could pick out were self-important, revelry, and a third word he figured he'd have to look up when he got home.

"Don't worry Casey. This shouldn't take too long. We should be back in a couple of hours," Sarah told Casey.

"Uh, the show doesn't start for a couple of hours, and it usually goes on for, oh, four or so," Chuck said, then winced when he saw Casey's expression. "But maybe we'll get lucky and the terrorist will try something early."

* * *

"So, no knives?" Chuck asked Sarah after they made it through security. The wait to get through had been long and dull, as the line seemed to be completely movie star and terrorist free. Once they finally made it through, they both got past the metal detector without a single beep.

"Don't worry, Chuck. Our contact is already inside and will provide us with something, so we'll be prepared." They had reached a point where there the general public was being ushered by several large guards toward a wall where several people were leaning over and taking pictures. Beyond the guards, the carpet continued down to where various members of the press were taking pictures and doing interviews.

Sarah motioned toward the wall, then paused when she realized someone was shouting toward her. Chuck turned around and recognized her as Kathy Griffin, apparently doing pre-show interviews. She was beckoning somebody to follow her, and Chuck realized she was trying to get the attention of her cameraman.

"Excuse me, Portia DeRossi? Can I get an interview?"

Sarah paused, looking uncomfortable, and said "Excuse me?"

Kathy stopped. "Darn it! You're not Portia DeRossi! You kind of look like her, but you're not Australian. And he's not Ellen," she pointed at Chuck. She looked around, and whispered conspiratorially, "Maybe you could pretend to be her for a bit. It's been really slow here so far. The best interview I've gotten so far is Ed Begley, Jr., and keeps going on and on about his little windup car. Maybe if you could say you're cheating on Ellen…"

"I'm sorry, we must go," Sarah pulled away, and beckoned Chuck to follow. "Who was that horrible person?"

"Uh, kind of hard to explain." They headed towards the wall, weaving through the crowd. At one point, several high-pitched screams came from above, and Sarah whirled around. Chuck looked around and chuckled. "Zac Efron," he explained to her, "nothing to worry about."

With everybody's attention diverted, they were able to sneak around to the back and reached a smaller building by the theatre. Chuck followed Sarah to the back of the building, where they found a steel door. Sarah knocked twice, and after a moment the door opened a crack.

"Hurry and get in," Chuck heard a voice command. He wasn't sure, but the voice sounded familiar to him.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, or any of the characters on the show. Also, representations of actual famous people, including movies they are in and any "details" suggested are all fictional. I hope.

Chapter 4

Chuck groaned slightly after the rush of the flash ended, and looked up at the man who had caused it. He was pretty sure he had seen just about every one of Nicolas Cage's movies, but he didn't remember ever seeing a fight scene with six masked men while standing on the ledge of an office building. He had missed "Captain Corelli's Mandolin," but he was pretty sure it wasn't from that.

Chuck looked up and realized Sarah and the contact were both looking at him. "Is he all right?" Cage asked.

"He should be fine," Sarah responded. After a pause, "He gets like that when he meets movie stars."

"Right," Cage nodded with a grimace. "He's not going to attract any attention at all." He looked at Sarah. "So I take it you're Walker. And this guy?"

Chuck recovered enough to reach out his hand and say, "Charles Carmichael, screenwriter."

Cage didn't take it. "Great, that's either your cover and you're a very green agent, or you actually are a screenwriter. Either way, I am just so lucky tonight. Ok, follow me."

They were walking down a dark tunnel that appeared to have been created about 20 years ago. Cage fished out a small penlight and shone it down the passage. He continued as they headed through the tunnel, "The latest we've heard is that Black Armada is planning to set off the bomb somewhere around the announcement of Best Picture. The theatre and stage have all been thoroughly checked, so it's likely that the bomb is being brought in by someone. Given the fairly tight security by the red carpet, we think that somebody pretty high up in the Hollywood food chain is the culprit."

Chuck kept walking, struggling with the current situation. "So," he finally said, "you're a government agent?"

"The kid's quick, I'll give him that. Yes, Agent Screenwriter Carmichael, I, famed actor Nicolas Cage, work for Uncle Sam."

"And the whole movie star, thing, that's just a front?"

"I'll have you know," Cage responded, "I work very hard on my craft. Make no mistake about that. Ok, maybe the government has stepped in to help promote my career a time or too."

"'Ghost Rider'?"

Cage sighed. "Yes, there may have been some adjustment of box office receipts on that one. I'll admit, it's in our country's best interests that I'm a big enough star to be able to go to certain places without question. And if it takes the occasional fudged grosses, or adjusted Oscar nomination to do it, then so be it. Ok, lady and gentleman, we're here."

Chuck could see they had reached the end of the dark hallway. Instead of a door, there was a metal ladder leading up to a small wooden hatch in the ceiling. Cage climbed the ladder, and pushed open the hatch.

After Cage had helped Sarah (though not Chuck) up through the hatch, they found themselves in a small storage room. The room was full of props, including plastic Oscars, what appeared to be a couple of old puppets, and various costumes. Chuck glanced at one of the costumes. "We don't need to wear these, do we?"

Cage gave Chuck a look. "You can if you like, Shakespeare. I think Bjork's dress is down at the end if you want to try it on. Seeing as that we want to be inconspicuous, though, I'd stick with the monkey suit you're wearing, and not an actual _monkey_ suit."

Cage motioned them to a door past the shelf of fake Oscars. "This leads into the wallway where everybody mingles before the start of the show. I'd rather we left at different times if you don't mind. This wouldn't be the first time a group of three snuck into a room at the Oscars for a while, but I'd just as soon not start any rumors that could get back to my wife." Cage pulled a gun out of his pocket and handed it to Sarah. Chuck waited expectantly, but Cage smirked and said, "Not a chance, Hemingway."

Chuck watched Cage crack open the door and disappear into the theatre. "I had no idea we had someone inside the movie business," Sarah commented.

"Quite a guy," Chuck commented. "I am definitely skipping his next movie."

"So, are you ready Chuck? Just remember, keep an eye out and let me know the moment you flash on something. You don't need to be a hero." Sarah gave him a quick smile and headed out the door.

"No problem." Chuck grabbed an old felt Kermit from the pile of props. "I'll just be hanging here."

* * *

Casey watched Chuck, Sarah, and the contact walk through the dark passageway on the small video screen in the limo. The camera, disguised as a brooch on Sarah's dress, seemed to be functioning properly, but as of yet there was little to see. He thought he recognized the contact from some of the DVDs he had to stack at his cover job at the Buy More. He wasn't thrilled that the contact was an actor, but at least he was pretty good at busting Bartowski's chops. Still, it was going to be a long night. The show was probably going to drag on all night, leaving him away from the action.

A commotion caught his attention from outside. He looked through the window, and saw several people carrying signs and shouting. When they drove in, he had seen some picketers carrying signs saying "Hollywood is the Devil's Playground," and other such slogans. However, these people looked different, as they were mostly burly men and women. Still, annoying is annoying, and when one started banging on the window, he moved into action. He rolled down the window, and started to twist the protester's arm. He heard the satisfying yelp of pain, but then felt a hand slap down on his arm. Casey growled, "Watch it, you…"

The large man looking at him through the window shifted his expression from anger to surprise, "Well I'll be damned it's S…"

"Casey," Casey said through clenched teeth. "John Casey."

"Oh of course, John Casey, how foolish of me to forget." Casey nodded to the passenger side door of the limo, and the other man walked around to the other side. As he approached the door, Casey quickly turned off the video feed on the dashboard.

"So, Casey," the other man said, once he had sat down on the front passenger seat, "still in the service, I see."

"And you're not, Jack. What are you doing here exactly anyway?"

"I'm protesting. See, we wanted stuntmen to be honored at this extravaganza here, but they said no. They said it would make the show too long," he said sarcastically.

"You're a stuntman?" Casey asked in surprise. "You stopped serving our country to become a stuntman?"

"It pays the bills, and with my training it's not that difficult work. It lets me do something I can tell my wife and kids about. Gets me some recognition. Or at least I thought it would. Don't you get tired of saving the world and never getting any credit for it?" He glanced out at the other protesters. "So I'm guessing that something's going down here tonight."

"You know I can't tell you about that."

"Of course. So how come you're stuck on sentry duty?"

Casey looked down. "There was an incident a few years back at one of these things. Apparantly, it was felt that everyone would be _safer_ with me out here."

"An incident a couple of years ago? Wait," Jack chuckled. "The People's Choice Awards? That was you? Man, what exactly did Alan Alda do to you?"

"It's a long story. And _classified_."

"Of course it is," Jack said, still laughing. "Well, I'll keep my eyes peeled. We're supposed to be here all night, and I'll let you know if I see anything." He reached for the door.

"Hey Jack,"

What, the other man said. "Good luck…stunting. Don't let any horses kick you in the ass."

"Horses? You don't go to a lot of movies, do you?"

Casey chuckled as the man left, and turned the monitor back on.

* * *

"Yeah, I think the Bay City Rollers biopic is going to win tonight. That Scorsese truly is a genius. So what movie did you last work on?"

"Um," Chuck said, quickly trying to come up with a response. The other man was a screenwriter, and Chuck was struggling to remember anything from the recent issues of _Variety_ Morgan insisted that the Buy More subscribe to. "Well, I did an uncredited rewrite recently."

"Oh yeah, been there, done that. I did a polish on 'Speed Racer' actually. Don't tell anyone."

"Oh, I can keep a secret." Chuck winced as he saw Matthew McConaughey walk by. The other screenwriter noticed and followed Chuck's line of sight. "Ah, that guy. Yeah, he's a prince. Throws a couple of 'dudes' into his lines and claims he writes his own dialogue. Actors, huh?"

Chuck nodded in agreement. The flash he had just seen was of an illegal high-stakes Monopoly game that McConaughey runs. It had hardly been the only flash of the evening either. Even though he had hardly talked to anybody, not a minute would go by without Chuck getting a flash of something illegal or just embarrassing about somebody famous. So far, Chuck had learned that Matt Damon illegally imports capuchin monkeys, Meryl Streep spends most nights drag racing in a 2002 Honda Civic, Alec Baldwin is a member of the NRA, Kate Winslet actually grew up in Iowa, and Morgan Freeman secretly writes "Gossip Girl" fan fiction. Chuck had no idea why the Intersect kept such information, but it was giving him a headache.

Chuck excused himself, and went to find Sarah. He milled about a bit awkwardly, and finally saw her talking to Jude Law. She looked uncomfortable. He went up to them and awkwardly said, "Excuse me," trying not to let the flash betray itself on his face.

Law glanced at him haughtily. "This is your date?" he asked Sarah.

Chuck put an arm around her. "That's right. You may, uh, want to adjust your…" he gestured up to his hair and made a slight turning motion.

"Oh," Law hurried off towards the restroom.

"Thanks, Chuck. He wouldn't stop talking. He asked me if I ever did any nannying. Have you flashed on anybody?"

"Just about everybody here. I can tell you exactly who's had plastic surgery and who's secretly gay. Why does the Intersect have so much information on famous people?"

Sarah shrugged. "The government's always mistrusted the famous, ever since the days of J Edgar Hoover. Something to do about their influence on people, I think. Did you find anything useful?"

"Not unless I want to open up a blackmailing side business. The place seems to be 100% terrorist free."

"Well, I haven't seen or heard anything suspicious either. There must be some sign of Black Armada somewhere."

Just then, a bell was heard throughout the hall. "I guess that means the show is about to begin." Sarah and Chuck followed the crowd into the auditorium.

_Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed the story so far. I hope to get the full story done before the actual Oscars, but I don't know if I can make any promises._


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, or any of the characters on the show. Representations of actual famous people, including movies they are in and any "details" suggested are all fictional.

Chapter 5

"And the Oscar goes to…Susan Sarandon!"

"Susan Sarandon? No way!" Morgan bellowed. "They were supposed to give it to Scarlett Johansson! They always give it to the ingénue!"

"Don't be such a sore loser, Morgan," Ellie chided.

"Hey, there's plenty of time left. So I got one wrong, no big deal. I'm sure nobody else got it either."

"Well actually…"

Morgan sighed. "I'm getting another Oscar cookie."

They all turned back to the television, and saw the host, Jack Black, return to the stage. "Please welcome the stars of the upcoming movies 'Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2: Run for the Border,' Daniel Day-Lewis and Cate Blanchett!"

"I wonder how Chuck's doing tonight," Ellie commented.

"Oh, I'm sure he's doing very well."

"Devon! Ewww! My brother!"

"Well you did ask, El. Face it, he's probably having a great time right now."

* * *

Chuck yawned. The downside of being at the Oscars in person was that it's a lot harder to make snarky comments about what's going on when you're surrounded by people who take the show very seriously. At one point, he had tried to make a joke about Nicole Kidman's dress to Sarah but got six different shushes in response. Every so often, the show would pause for a commercial break, at which point the various people in the front of the theatre would wander about, and schmooze with each other. The people in the back, Chuck and Sarah included, would be stuck where they were, as there was barely room to stand, much less move about. But at least they could talk.

"That guy is really loud," Sarah commented during the break that followed Jack Black's latest bit. "I'm not sure I get him. Flash on anything new?" she asked quietly.

"Nope," Chuck decided not to mention learning that Cate Blanchett is an expert art forger. "If nothing is going to happen until Best Picture is announced, there probably won't be anything happening for a while."

"Four hours, huh?"

"Hey, look at the bright side. We've got art direction _and_ set direction coming up next."

Sarah laughed at the look he gave her. "Well, as exciting as that sounds, we're going to need to find something soon. Maybe we should have a look around at the next break, and see if we can find something."

"It's worth a shot, I guess. Well, if nothing else, at least we know Casey's having the time of his life in the limo."

* * *

"Shut up, Bartowski!"

* * *

Morgan stared down at his sheet in bewilderment as the montage salute to 'fish out of water' stories ended. He hadn't gotten a single award right yet. He had never been this off of his game. "There's something odd going on here."

"Oh yeah?" Anna asked him.

"Clearly there is some vast conspiracy going on here. It's got to be the government right? 'Shakespeare in Love'? Marisa Tomei? Nicolas Cage? And now, Rainn Wilson?? A TV star? A second banana on a TV show? Guys like that don't win awards."

"I thought he was pretty good."

"Please. Anybody can play a heroin-addicted beat poet. He was practically playing himself."

"Morgan. Don't you think you're taking this a bit too seriously?"

"It's a conspiracy, Anna. Believe me. If Chuck were here, he'd back me up on this."

"Chuck is off having a romantic night out with his girlfriend. Of all the things he does that rub off on you, funny how that one doesn't."

Morgan sighed. "I think you're missing the point here."

Anna rolled her eyes. "Sure, Morgan. Or," she added with a smile, "maybe that's just what I want you to think. Maybe I'm part of the conspiracy. And maybe Chuck is too. Maybe he's secretly at the Oscars right now hanging with movie stars and laughing at you. Maybe that's why he always beats you at the pool."

"Hey, y…" Morgan frowned. "You're making fun of me."

Anna touched Morgan's face with a smile, and then headed into the kitchen to grab a beer.

* * *

Chuck looked around the atrium. He had managed to escape the theatre in the middle of the last musical performance. While he enjoyed listening to Bryan Adams perform while accompanied by the Harlem Boys Choir and three harps, he really felt the need to sneak out. The combination of anxiety about not finding the terrorist, and the tendency to flash every time someone walked on stage, made Chuck feel extremely edgy. Right before the Bryan Adams performance, he had learned more than he wanted to about a "student film" Tom Hanks had made in the 70s.

Unfortunately, no further clues were presenting themselves outside either. Trying to look as casual as possible, Chuck leaned against a life-size Oscar statue. Cage wandered into the atrium, and noticed Chuck standing about.

"Find anything useful, Agent Tolstoy?"

"This place seems to be remarkably short on terrorists."

"Well that's because the agents got better seats than you did. What about your much, _much_ better half? She see anything?"

Chuck shook his head. Sarah had looked around during the montage sequence of famous movie cute animal scenes, but hadn't seen anything.

"Well keep up the great work. Or at least look like a writer and go to the bar."

Chuck sighed, and took Cage's advice. Figuring he was on what passed for Intersect duty, he ordered a Coke.

"Let me guess, you're either a sound effects guy for 'Fantastic Four III' or the tallest and whitest member of the Harlem Boys Choir."

Chuck turned around to see Robert Downey, Jr. standing at the bar, fiddling with a cigarette. Chuck was surprised to realize he hadn't flashed. "Uh, neither, actually. Frustrated screenwriter."

"And instead of being inside, you're standing around outside, nursing what looks like the weakest Jack and Coke I've ever seen. What's the matter, did Jude Law steal your girl?"

"Just wanted some air."

"Well, this is where the excitement is," Downey said. "In the theatre, people act like they know they could be on camera at any second. Out here, they're free to be as petty, jealous, and insecure as they want. Take these guys for example."

Chuck looked down the hallway, and saw a group of four men exiting the theatre.

"They produced a little movie about orphans living in Bolivia. They call it 'Los Ninos Muerto.' They scrimp and save, manage to get the movie into Sundance, and a few critics really like it. The movie gets sold, released on a few screens a few months ago, more critics really like it, and suddenly they're popular. Wives left for hot young starlets, expensive new homes bought, you know the story. And then comes the Oscar nomination. Best Picture." Downey takes a puff of his cigarette, obviously enjoying telling the story.

"And with that everyone's out to get them. And with that comes the sudden backlash, the sudden cries of 'overrated.' Now they're drowning in a big heap of bad buzz, knowing they have no shot to win tonight, and they may never again have it as good as they did a few months ago."

"And so they come out here to drink."

As the men get closer to the bar, Chuck winces. "What's the matter? You hear that story before? Like I said, it's an old one."

Chuck forces a chuckle. "Yeah, like you said," he responds.

"Well, enjoy the show." Downey doused his cigarette, and headed back into the theatre. Chuck sighed, and quickly looked back at the producers. The flashes had come in quick succession, but he had no doubt about what he had seen: one of the "Los Ninos Muerto" producers was a member of Black Armada.


	6. Chapter 6

_Update: Still don't own the characters, real people mentioned in the stories still have no basis in reality._

Chapter 6

"Are you sure?" Sarah asked.

"That guy was definitely from Black Armada," Chuck replied. He was back in his seat inside the Kodak Theatre, and was updating Sarah on what he had just seen. Down on the stage, Geoffrey Rush and Kristen Bell were announcing the Best Song winner, but the people seated around Chuck and Sarah had abandoned their shushing tendencies. Whether this was because they had just given up in frustration, or because they were too tired or bored to bother, Chuck wasn't sure.

"But you told me this movie he was part of is a long shot! If this bomb is supposed to go off during the Best Picture award, how does he get on stage if his movie doesn't win?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that. Just how big is Black Armada?"

"Well," Sarah thought for a moment. "they're not exactly Fulcrum, but they have been recruiting a lot of new members lately."

"I've got a theory, and I want to go down towards the front and have a closer look."

"Chuck," Sarah protested. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Trust me."

* * *

Chuck felt bad sneaking away during the "In Memoriam" segment, but he figured if he didn't do this, they'd be showing a much longer segment next year. He snuck around to the stairwell, and headed downward. With the lights dimmed, he was able to move about without calling too much attention to himself. Towards the front, he was able to see the various producers for "Talbot Springs." Chuck glanced at the group, and quickly flashed at one of them.

Making sure that the memorial clips hadn't yet reached anyone he'd heard of, he figured he still had time to check some of the other producers. He found the 'Summer Geraniums' producers, and sure enough, Chuck felt the familiar rush to his head that signified new information from the Intersect.

Chuck hurried back up to the balcony, and snuck back to his seat. Once the usual respectful silence after the "In Memoriam" had passed and everyone began talking to each other again, Chuck nodded to Sarah. "They're hedging their bets. Black Armada has someone with each of the movies."

* * *

"And the Oscar goes to…" Marion Cotillard opened the envelope, "Ryan Gosling, for 'Saturday Night.'"

"Way to go, babe!" Devon high-fives Ellie.

"I don't believe this," Morgan shook his head. "Don Cheadle plays a mentally-challenged man who teach a group of underprivileged kids how to ice skate, and he loses to a guy singing cheesy pop songs while dressed in plaid? It's madness, it's wrong, it's a…"

"Conspiracy?" offered Anna with a smirk.

"I've got a few more cookies in the kitchen, if anybody wants one." Ellie headed into the kitchen to grab the tray out of the oven. As Devon helped her put them into a plate, she asked, "Do you think we should tell Morgan that Chuck helped me with my picks? He seems to be taking losing pretty hard."

They looked back at Morgan, who was banging his head against the wall.

"I'd give it a little more time, babe. Then let him off easy."

* * *

Chuck and Sarah watched Denzel Washington stride towards the podium. "It's time to go," Chuck whispered. The last of people seated around them had fallen asleep during the "Movie scenes with people playing the cello" clip montage, so they were able to sneak away from their seats fairly easily.

"Before we present our final award of the night, let's once again remind everyone of the five nominated films: 'Beautiful Friendship,' the story of the making of the film 'Casablanca,' – Sam Mendes, director. 'Los Ninos Muerto,' the harrowing story of young Bolivian orphans struggling to find a better life - Juan Antonio Bayona, director."

Sarah and Chuck took position in the back of the main floor of the theatre. Sarah motioned Chuck to stay back, and began to remove the gun from her purse.

'Saturday Night,' the story of the rise and fall of the Bay City Rollers – Martin Scorsese, director. 'Summer Geraniums,' the heartbreaking story of denied love, set in turn of the century England – Stephen Daldry, director."

Chuck anxiously watched Sarah inch further forward, now with her gun cocked and ready.

"'Talbot Springs,' the story of a young woman meeting her new stepfather and family – Catherine Hardwicke, director. And the Oscar goes to…"

Chuck could barely breathe, as he watched Denzel Washington open the envelope.

"'Summer Geraniums.'"

* * *

Sarah watched the various producers head to the stage after a long series of hugs and back-slaps. Chuck had pointed out the Black Armada member in the group, and Sarah had to admit that she wouldn't have looked twice at him otherwise. Like the other producers, he was about 50 years in age, with a graying beard, and round-rimmed glasses. She watched him reach the stage and stand back for a moment.

One of the other producers reached the stage. "Wow, this is quite an honor. I've got a few people I want to thank." Sarah watched him thank his agent, his barber, his fourth-grade English teacher, and the Dalai Lama. Finally, he said, "Anybody else want to say something?"

"Actually," the Black Armada member reached the podium, and held up his Oscar. He flipped up the head, revealing a small green button. "I'd just like to let everyone know that this is a bomb."

"Well," the first producer said, "the opening weekend gross was a little lower than we anticipated, but I'd hardly…"

"No, I mean a real bomb."

Sarah sprang into action.

* * *

"Aw man!"

"Sorry, Morgan-Meister. It's just not your year."

Ellie smiled as she watched the 'Summer Geraniums' acceptance speeches. The first producer went on for a long time, and then a second producer came up.

"Wait, did he say something about a bomb?" The others gathered around the couch, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Hey, who's that coming down the aisle?"

"It kind of looks like Sarah, doesn't it?" Devon said.

"No. I'm pretty sure that's Portia DeRossi," Morgan explained.

* * *

Chuck watched anxiously as the Black Armada agent brandished the Oscar. "I'm holding the detonator right here. So everybody remain in your seats."

Chuck watched Sarah get into range. She was crouched behind some seats, so that nobody from the stage could see her. Chuck knew that she was waiting for the Black Armada producer to move his finger far enough away from the detonator for her to take the shot. The wait was agonizing.

"Mr. Washington, Mr. Spielberg, why don't you step behind for a moment?" the terrorist told the presenter and the first producer. "I need a little room over here."

"I knew we didn't actually have another associate producer," Chuck heard Spielberg grumble.

The Black Armada agent turned to respond to him, and Chuck saw his thumb slip down slightly. At that moment, Sarah jumped up and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Chuck gasped as he saw somebody move behind Sarah, and hit her over the head.

"You didn't think I'd give you a gun that actually works, did you?" Nicolas Cage asked.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. I don't know the creators of Chuck. I don't know any real people mentioned in this story, so depictions of them are entirely fictional._

Chapter 7

As Nicolas Cage strode to the stage, Chuck rushed over to see Sarah. There was a gash on her head, but she was conscious. "Chuck, get out of here!" she groaned.

"I thank everyone for their kind attention," Cage said, once he reached the stage. He took the Oscar from the producer, and waved it around at the audience. "It looks like the show is finally about to get interesting!" He stepped to the podium. "I'd like to thank the Academy for giving me this wonderful opportunity to blow it up."

Chuck knew he needed to do something, but he saw that the place was full of television cameras. Keeping his cover would be tricky. After a moment's thought, he ran outside into the hall, and headed to the storage room that they had used to enter the theatre.

* * *

"Look at you people!" Cage said, gesturing grandly to the crowd. "In your fancy dresses, your jewelry that costs as much as the Gross National Product of Uruguay. I mean, how wasteful!"

"Don't you take a private jet to go the beach every weekend?"

"Shut up, Clooney! My friends and I," he gestured to the other four Black Armada agents, who had joined him on stage, "are doing the world a favor. No one will ever forget…"

Cage paused in an effort to comprehend the site in front of him. A man dressed in replica medieval armor and helmet was heading up to the stage. "What is that?" he heard one of the other Black Armada agents say behind him.

The knight climbed onto the stage. Cage studied him, and then smiled. "Why is that you, Agent…Seuss?"

"I can't let you get away with this," Chuck responded.

"You do realize that armor's fake, and isn't going to protect you from my fist, much less a bullet."

Chuck swallowed. "I'm aware of that. But I can't let you do this. Don't you think you terrorized people enough with 'The Wicker Man'?"

"So is that your plan? To insult me?"

"Hey, it's paid for a lot of movie critics' kid's educations."

Cage rolled his eyes, and pulled a gun out of his tuxedo. "I think this show has gone on for long enough, don't you?"

* * *

Sarah got up slowly, and studied the scene being enacted on stage. "Casey!" she whispered in her brooch.

"Walker, what the hell's going on? What's Bartowski doing up there?"

"I'm not really sure," Sarah admitted. "Can you get in here?"

"Oh sure, now I'm welcome."

"Just shut up, and get over here." Sarah got to her feet. Cage was now standing in front of the podium, pointing his gun at Chuck, and Sarah felt a panicked feeling in her stomach. She had to do something quickly. "If only I had my knives," she muttered to herself.

"Here, take mine," Sarah turned to see a woman seated on the aisle, holding out a large knife.

"Uh, thanks…"

"Angelina."

Sarah nodded to the other woman as she took the knife. Aiming precisely, she hurled it at Nicolas Cage. It missed him, but caught his tuxedo jacket, pinning it to the podium. As he struggled to get free, he dropped the gun and the detonator.

* * *

Chuck dove down, grabbing the detonator as it fell. He turned around to look for the gun, only to find it in the hands of the fake 'Summer Geraniums' producer, pointed at him. "Give me the detonat…" he began, until Steven Spielberg punched him.

"That's for taking a producer's credit you didn't deserve," Spielberg muttered.

Unfortunately, the other four Black Armada members were also armed, and Chuck and Steven Spielberg found themselves surrounded. "I hope you have a plan, son," Spielberg whispered to Chuck.

"Uh, not really. Big fan, by the way"

However, at that moment, there was a loud thump, as several burly men fell from the sky, landing on the armed enemy agents. As the strange men tackled the remaining Black Armada members, Chuck saw Sarah and Casey climb onto the stage. "Hey Casey, who are these guys?"

"Just some friends of mine." Casey frowned at Chuck's reaction. "Yes, _friends_ of mine. They're stuntmen."

One of the stuntmen got to his feet, with his hand tightly gripping the shoulder of a Black Armada member. "I believe these guys are yours, Casey."

"Thanks Jack. That was quite a jump. Those rafters are pretty high."

"Hey, it's what we do."

"Well, I guess you guys got the exposure you wanted after all," Casey commented, gesturing towards the auditorium. The various attendees were on their feet, applauding.

Jack shrugged. "About time."

Sarah put her hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Nice outfit," she said with a smile. "Maybe you'd like to hand me the detonator?"

"Oh god, yes." Chuck's handed Sarah the detonator, and wiped his sweaty palms on the fake armor.

Several armed NSA agents had now entered the theatre, and were taking the five Black Armada agents from the hands of the stuntmen. As Casey watched them go, Steven Spielberg came up to him. "Aren't you the guy from the People's Choice Awards?"

Casey sighed. "Yes. But don't worry. You're OK. 'Saving Private Ryan' is my favorite war movie. Well, that and 'Full Metal Jacket.'"

They both turned to Cage, who was still pinned to the podium. "Would you mind?" Casey asked Spielberg.

"Be my guest."

"Thanks," Casey said, right before slugging Cage. "That felt good."

* * *

Ellie, Devon, Morgan, and Anna stared at the TV, dumbfounded. Once all of the strange men and Nicolas Cage had been led away, Steven Spielberg had walked to the podium, and said, "Well, uh, that's our show tonight. Good night everybody!"

"That was…" Ellie began.

"Awesome!!!" Morgan responded, before shrugging at Devon. "It's about time they brought some excitement to the show! I mean this was all a bit too '24' for my taste, but still very cool!"

"So it made up for your bad night?"

"Are you kidding?" Morgan dropped his picks sheet in the trashcan, and grabbed one last Oscar cookie. "The only bad thing is that Chuck missed it!"


	8. Epilogue

_Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck. I don't know the creators of Chuck. I don't know any real people mentioned in this story, so depictions of them are entirely fictional._

Epilogue

A knock on the door interrupted Sarah's nap the next evening. The prior evening's excitement had gotten her the day off from spy work, other than a short debriefing. General Beckman had informed them that the Black Armada members were now in interrogation. Nicolas Cage was in custody as well. Beckman had also been in contact with the Oscar producers, and had passed around a story that the end of the broadcast was a vast publicity stunt. A doctored tape had been circulated to various television stations and internet sites, with Sarah and Casey digitally replaced by Portia DeRossi and Stephen Baldwin. Additionally, a story had been circulated saying that Cage had retired from acting to explore a career in rap music.

While her spying job had been uneventful that day, Sarah still had to work at the Orange Orange. She had been looking forward to a quiet evening, but didn't mind when she opened the door to find Chuck's smiling face. "Hey Sarah!"

"Chuck! What brings you here?"

"I see you already forgot. You promised me a movie night."

"Oh Chuck, I…"

"Uh uh, Sarah. A promise is a promise. Unfortunately, they were all out of 'Mary Poppins.' So, it will have to be a patented Chuck Bartowski dumb comedy night instead." Chuck had been holding a bag behind his back, and as he entered, he placed it on a side table.

Sarah thought about it for a moment, and finally said, "Do you have any popcorn?"

"Have you no faith?" Chuck asked as he pulled a bag of microwave popcorn from the bag. "And more importantly, do you have a bowl?"

Sarah headed into the kitchenette attached to the hotel room to see if she could find a bowl. When she turned around, Chuck was holding a small gold-colored statuette. "Chuck is that…?"

"The detonator? No way. That's safe and secure in the government's hands. This is something else, actually." Chuck motioned for Sarah to sit down on the bed beside him.

"Last night got me thinking. After watching all of those awards and people congratulating each over, I realized it's not fair. I love movies and all, but it just doesn't seem right, when some people have these incredibly demaining jobs and can't get any acknowledgement at all. Where they have to hide the fact that they are even doing the job to begin with. It seems like a little recognition isn't so much to ask."

Chuck handed the statuette to Sarah. It was a small gold figure of a knight. The base was enscribed with the words "My protector."

"Chuck, I don't know what to say."

"Well, you know," Chuck blushed. "I'd get one for Casey too, but I'm afraid of where he'd put it."

Sarah laughed. "You know the same thing goes for you too. You deserve recognition for everything you've done. The country, the world, is a safer place because of you."

Chuck smiled shyly.

After a moment, Sarah put the little trophy on her dresser. Sitting back down on the bed, she asked, "So, what did you get?"

"Well, first of all, we've got the classic 'Dude, Where's My Car?' The plot of the entire movie is summarized in the title, so you don't have to do any pesky thinking. And then for an encore, we've got 'Austin Powers.' The bonus is that it's about spying, so you could get some helpful tips."

Sarah gave Chuck a look, but lay back on the bed. Chuck put the first DVD in the hotel room's player, and sat back down. "Happy movie night, Sarah"

"Happy movie night, Chuck."

End

_Thanks everybody for indulging me in my pile of Hollywood in-jokes disguised as a story. Thanks for all of the kind reviews, and I tried to work in some of the suggested cameos. My one regret with this story is that the scene of Sarah punching Kathy Griffin landed on the cutting-room floor. Oh well, maybe it'll make it into the deleted scenes…_


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